


This Might Be A Love Story

by andthenshesaid-write (ladyknight1512)



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, CrissColfer Big Bang, M/M, Online Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknight1512/pseuds/andthenshesaid-write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Darren are students at the University of Michigan, but they don't meet until Darren starts performing at a coffee shop Chris likes to write in. An unsuccessful date leads to strong friendship. Unbeknownst to them, Chris and Darren have been talking to each other online for almost 2 years. Feelings start to change and get super muddled in a love-quadrangle that's only actually made up of two people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've never joined in on a big bang before, and I always said I'd never write RPF. So of course I would decide to take part in the CrissColfer Big Bang on a whim while brushing my hair one morning.
> 
> Huge thanks to [Tara](http://queenofokay.tumblr.com/) for the beta. You have the patience of a saint. I'm so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months at a time.
> 
> And, of course, endless thanks and love to [Aly](http://spookyklaine.tumblr.com/) for the music. You took this story to a whole other level. Everyone, make sure you go [listen to the soundtrack](https://soundcloud.com/user226373220/sets/this-might-be-a-love-story).

There’s a coffee shop just off the University of Michigan campus called ‘Honey Joy’. It’s named after the owners (Honey and Joy, who met in a business class in college) and done up with honey-coloured walls with blue accents. There are sofas and armchairs with cushions so plush you sink into them as soon as you touch them clustered in one corner; wooden tables and matching chairs a shade or two darker than the walls occupy the rest of the space.

Chris has been coming here for almost a year; it’s the only coffee shop in the area that has employees who don’t glare and grumble when he gets so caught up in his writing that he forgets to order something else and just sits there all afternoon. Ashley and Lauren have even started giving him a free cookie or muffin every once in a while, always delivered with a wink or a hair ruffle. At first he’d been put off by them; they’d never interacted beyond him ordering a sandwich and a Diet Coke so what reason did they have to be so overly familiar? But as time went on he started looking forward to seeing them; they are constants in a life that has been characterised by uncertainty and change. Chris isn’t sure if he would call them friends necessarily but, right now, they’re almost the closest he’s got.

On one particular afternoon in mid-January, Chris is huddled over his laptop at what’s become his regular corner table in Honey Joy. His fingers are stopping and starting, stumbling over the keys as he tries to find the words to turn the scene he’s writing into something worth reading. So far, he’s not having much luck but he’s a can of Coke and half a scone into the flow now and he can feel himself slipping into the zone, that sweet place where the words come easier and flow more naturally, as if they’ve always been inside him, just waiting for the chance to come out.

The door of the shop is thrust open and a gust of wind flies through the room. Napkins blow off tables, flyers on the pinboard flutter and the pages of Chris’s notebook flip up and over.

Chris, startled back to reality, looks up and glares at the young man stumbling into the shop; he’s trying to balance a messenger bag and a guitar case while he fumbles with the door. Finally, it’s closed and the man leans against it for a moment, blowing a breath out of his mouth with the effort.

“Could you be any more hopeless?” Lauren calls out from where she’s got an elbow on the counter and her head propped on her fist.

“Hey!” The man at the door pushes himself upright and straightens his beanie. He’s got what looks like a riot of curls peeking out from underneath. “I know how to make an entrance, okay?”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Darren. You can set up over there.” She waves a hand at the corner diagonally opposite Chris. It’s empty except for a wooden stool with a blue-cushioned seat.

Darren salutes her in a way that would look mocking if they didn’t obviously know each other really well. He weaves between the tables and only whacks his guitar case into one person on his way, but apologises with so much charm and such a wide smile that the woman brushes it off like it’s nothing. From the coy tilt to her mouth the collision was probably worth it if it meant a chance to get this guy’s attention.

Darren sets the guitar case on the floor by the stool and takes a black acoustic guitar out of it. Chris doesn’t know anything about guitars, or any musical instrument really, but this one is obviously well-cared for, shiny and sleek. It doesn’t occur to him that Darren is going to start playing it until he’s hopped up onto the stool and thrown the strap over his neck. He digs a pick out of his pocket and strums the strings. He winces and fiddles with the tuners on the head, picking at the strings until finally he smiles in apparent satisfaction.

Then he turns to the coffee shop patrons—it’s pretty full, with people taking shelter from the cold in addition to the regulars—and waves. His fingernails are painted in what looks like alternating colours.

“Hi.” He grins. “I’m Darren, and my friend Lauren who, I’m sure, kindly took your orders earlier, convinced her boss that this place could do with some live music to provide some ambience. That’s where I come in. I’ll play some covers and some originals and, yes, I do take requests, but I can’t promise I’ll know the song well enough to not starting making up the lyrics halfway through.”

On that note, Darren strums his guitar and launches into “Part of Your World” from _The Little Mermaid_. Chris is wide-eyed and stunned. Glancing around, he’s relieved to see a few other confused faces in the shop.

“Part of Your World” isn’t a long song, so as it’s ending Chris is just deciding he’s going to try and ignore Darren and the music while he gets back to writing. There’s a brief smattering of applause, which Darren accepts with a gracious smile, before he segues into “Mac the Knife”.

Chris already knows the train of thought he was on when Darren, quite literally, breezed in is gone. He tries to get back on it anyway, but his fingers curl with frustration when he only manages to tap out a couple more halting sentences. He’s not even sure if he remembers where he was taking this scene when he began it.

Darren’s voice slips in and out of his notice as Chris perseveres. Occasionally, some of the patrons laugh. Each time, Chris’s lips tighten further until he finally sighs, snaps his laptop shut and forces it into his bag. He wraps his scarf around his neck so roughly he almost strangles himself and stomps out of the coffee shop right as the wind changes direction and blows a sheet of rain into his face.

Before he manages to pull the door of the shop closed, the woman Darren hit with his guitar case requests “Piano Man”, which is just frankly ridiculous. He’s playing a guitar for god’s sake.

*** * ***

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:52]:** Did you do much writing today?

**CatInAPastLife [23:53]:** Ugh. No. The place I usually go was full and noisy. There was live music.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:54]:** Was the band any good?

**CatInAPastLife [23:56]:** It was just one guy. I wasn’t paying attention. I hate writing for assignments but I think this scene might actually make it into the book if it’s good enough so I want to give it the attention it deserves.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:57]:** I’m sure it’ll be great.

**CatInAPastLife [23:59]:** You’ve never read anything I’ve written. I might be a terrible writer for all you know. Actually, for all you know, I might not be a writer at all.

**Lil’SanFranDude [00:02]:** Ahhh, but the not knowing for sure is half the fun, Cat. We’ve entered into the World Wide Web. We can be anything we want to be out here.

**CatInAPastLife [00:03]:** …Are you this dramatic in your real life?

**Lil’SanFranDude [00:04]:** Now that *would* be telling. ;) And who says this isn’t real life?

*** * ***

“Who was that guy?” Chris asks Ashley a few days later, as she’s placing his Diet Coke and turkey sub on the table. There’s a brownie he definitely didn’t pay for balanced on the edge of the plate.

She looks around at the occupied tables in the shop, half of which have at least one guy seated at them, and pointedly raises an eyebrow.

“The guy from the other day. The guitar player. Lauren’s friend.”

“Darren?” Ashley shrugs. “One of her college buddies.”

“Is he going to be here today?”

Ashley frowns and a sly smile spreads across her face. “Why? You want an introduction?”

Chris splutters and feels his cheeks go hot, at the implication more than there being any truth to the answer. “No! He was distracting, that’s all. I might avoid this place if I know he’s going to be in.”

“He’s supposed to encourage business, not drive it away.”

“I’ll still come in…just not while he’s here.”

Ashley hums. “Okay.” She points a stern finger in his face. “But you better not be lying. I could track you down, I know people.”

Chris gives a bemused smile. “Whatever you say.”

Maybe SanFranDude’s confidence has inspired something in him, because the writing goes well that day. What had started as a half-hearted skeleton of a chapter has turned into something fully fleshed out. He has a good feeling his professor will like it, and he’s starting to figure out how it could fit into his book as well. All in all, things are looking up.

The alarm on his phone goes off just as he triumphantly adds a final period to the end of the chapter. Perfectly timed. He’ll print it off at the library and submit it at the end of the day.

Chris hurries to slide everything into his bag. The class he has now is one of his favourites but his teacher doesn’t take kindly to latecomers, which is fair because neither does Chris. He gives a distracted wave to Ashley on his way through the shop and pulls open the door just as someone pushes it in from the outside.

They both stumble without the resistance but manage to catch themselves before they fall over.

“Oh, man. Don’t tell me I’ve run you off again.”

Chris looks up into a pair of smiling hazel eyes and barely manages to hold in a gasp. “It’s you.”

Darren smiles wider and tilts his head to the left. “Guilty.”

He’s wearing glasses with a thin wire frame this time, and gone without the beanie. Chris was right: his messy dark curls look a bit like a mop but they give him a boyish charm that it has probably never hurt him to have.

“I’m Darren.”

“Chris.” He tries to edge around Darren, who’s still blocking the door way. “Do you mind if I…?”

Darren narrows his eyes but there’s a playful tilt to his mouth. “I don’t know if I should let you leave. You already ducked out mid-performance once and you looked pretty pissed off when you did. And now you’re trying to leave before I’ve even started. No one will hire me if this gets out.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You think very highly of yourself. I have a class to get to.”

“So next time I’m here, you’ll stay?”

“What?” Chris shakes his head. “Why do you care?”

Darren shrugs the sort of shrug that moves his whole body and straightens his glasses. “Don’t know. Except you’re kinda cute and I don’t like it when people don’t like my music. It makes me want to be better, you know?”

“I’m just one person. You have a whole coffee shop of people giving you their full attention.”

“One person can change your life.”

“I’m not going to change your life, Darren.”

Darren grins. “That sounds like a challenge to me. I’ll see you on Friday. I’m here from three.”

*** * ***

Kenna Cartwright is Chris’s favourite professor. She’s young enough to be cool without trying too hard but old enough to have been in the publishing business long enough to have the respect of her students.

“Romance!” Her short red hair, dyed blonde at the tips, flicks into her face with the force she puts behind the word. “It’s the best-selling genre in the world. Who knows why?”

“Sex sells,” says a voice in the back.

Kenna shrugs as if to say she can’t fault his answer. “What else?”

“It’s safe,” says a woman in the second row, “so the consumer always gets what they want.”

“Okay.” Kenna’s gaze roves around the room and Chris tenses briefly when it lands on him. He lets out a small sigh when it passes over him and rests on the young woman to his right. “Lacey? What do you think?”

Lacey chews her lip and glances around the room. She doesn’t speak up much but Chris has caught peeks of her work before and the lyricism of the prose sometimes takes his breath away.

“Romance novels give people hope,” she finally says. “They tell readers that true love is real and worth waiting for.”

Kenna smiles gently. “Thank you.” She breaks her eyes away and takes in the whole room. “You’re all right, to a degree. Romance novels bring people a lot of joy. Unfortunately, it’s also one of the most mocked and maligned genres on the market. For all the same reasons. Who here has ever criticised the romance genre? Be honest. I won’t hold it against you.”

Most hands around the room go up, including Chris’s, though some more confidently than others.

Kenna rubs her hands together and huffs a laugh. “This will be fun for you then. Your next assignment is to produce a long short story, up to ten thousand words, in the romance genre. Plot, setting, characters, all that fun stuff is entirely up to you. But it must be a romance. I’m happy to look at partial drafts up to a week before the due date. Submission details are in the syllabus.”

Someone in the class actually groans. Chris is glad it isn’t him but it’s a near thing. She wants him to write a romance story? What is he supposed to do?

Chris lingers at the end of the class, sharing a distracted smile with Lacey on her way out, until he’s the last person in the room with Kenna.

“What’s up, Chris?”

He pulls his bag higher onto his shoulder. “Why romance?”

She chuckles and shuffles some papers on the desk. “Because torturing students makes my heart sing.”

He raises an eyebrow and she smiles, resting her palms flat on the desk.

“Because romance is an important part of the publishing industry. Many, if not most, published books have at least a romantic subplot. And people think it’s easy, that they can just punch some names into a formula and hey! A romance novel comes out. But it’s not the writing that’s the hard part, it’s the making people care.”

“Isn’t that true about all writing?”

“Sure, but romance gets a lot of flak, and you shouldn’t criticise what you haven’t attempted yourself.”

Chris’s shoulders slump with his sigh. “I don’t write romance novels.”

Kenna’s eyes twinkle. “Then write me a love story. I’m sure you have one of those in you.”

*** * ***

**CatInAPastLife [22:18]:** What’s the difference between a romance novel and a love story?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:18]:** Shouldn’t you know? You’re the writer. Allegedly.

**CatInAPastLife [22:19]:** I Googled it. All the websites say that love stories don’t have to have happy endings.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:19]:** So what’s the problem?

**CatInAPastLife [22:20]:** It doesn’t seem like enough. Shouldn’t there be something more?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:21]:** Isn’t that enough? Most people would feel cheated if they invested time in the love of two people only to have it ripped out from under them.

**CatInAPastLife [22:21]:** Again with the drama.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:22]:** You say that as if you’re surprised. Don’t you know me at all by now?

*** * ***

Despite himself, Chris decides to stop by Honey Joy on Friday afternoon. It’s more to prove Darren wrong than anything else, and he’ll be walking past anyway. He chooses not to rush; it’s a coffee shop, not a Broadway show.

He’s thinking about SanFran as he dodges people on the sidewalk because he can’t get their conversation from the previous night out of his head.

“Don’t you know me at all?” SanFran had asked.

It’s not something he’s ever stopped to think about in any great detail before. They had met about two years ago on a Harry Potter forum of all places and had only interacted in passing for the first six months. But after a bout of insomnia and an intense, albeit unplanned, McGonagall headcanon session they started meeting up in the forum’s chatroom and they’ve been talking ever since, though they don’t talk every day. They don’t even talk every week sometimes.

There are rules, no personal details being number one. It had started as common sense: you don’t give out personal information on the internet. But after a while, when it became clear that neither one of them was a sociopathic murderer, it became something like a game. Say anything you want…so long as it’s not personal. To this day, Chris doesn’t know SanFran’s real name, age, location or occupation. He’s guessed that they’re about the same age and SanFran is probably male…but it’s still all guesswork.

So how much _does_ he know SanFran? He knows that he loves pizza. And beer. He has a mom, a dad and a brother. He likes Harry Potter, Star Wars and Disney. He stayed up all night with Chris once when Hannah was in the hospital and Chris couldn’t shut off his brain enough to sleep, though Chris never told him the reason.

But he couldn’t pick him out in a crowded room. Hell, Chris wouldn’t know if he was sitting next to SanFran on the bus.

It never used to bother him, but there’s something about SanFran having put the question out there so baldly, even jokingly, that bothers him now.

It’s almost quarter to four by the time Chris pushes the door to Honey Joy open. He has to do a double take at all the filled seats. Apparently Lauren’s plan to get more business in worked because just about everyone in the shop is listening to Darren, who’s perched on his stool, guitar on his knee, strumming away to “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay”.

Darren catches Chris’s eye and grins around the lyrics. Chris smiles reluctantly. There’s something about Darren that’s just filled with so much joy. It’s infectious.

He joins the queue leading to the counter to order a drink. Lauren, who’s manning the register, beams when he reaches the front of the line.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” she says, already punching in his Diet Coke.

“I’ll have the tuna melt. Why wouldn’t I show up?”

Lauren side-eyes him. “Because Darren practically dared you to?”

“Wouldn’t that be _more_ reason to be here?”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person who gives in to him, that’s all.”

“Do people give in to him a lot?”

Lauren throws her head back and laughs so hard tears spring to her eyes. “You have no idea.”

He collects his Coke and sandwich, and sits at a table on the far side of the room from Darren. He would have done it anyway but it feels less pointed when all the nearer seats are taken.

Darren sings a few more songs, a mix of standards and songs Chris has never heard and which might be originals. He’s good, there is no denying that, when he isn’t distracting Chris from his writing. His body moves with the music as he gets lost in it, the guitar like an extension of his body. He does make some weird faces occasionally, but his voice, soft and rough at the same time, gives Chris goosebumps. His talent is almost irritating.

SanFranDude likes music; he talks about it all the time. Would he like Darren’s performance? SanFran talks about musical theatre a lot, and 90s rock and pop, none of the stuff Darren plays, so maybe it wouldn’t be his thing at all.

Finally, Darren smiles out at the crowd and says, “Just one more song for today, guys, and I think it’ll be a request.”

Almost before he’s finished speaking, people are calling out songs but Darren ignores them all and points at Chris.

“You there, hiding in the back. What’s it gonna be?”

It’s only because SanFran is foremost in his mind that he says, “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”

Darren straightens and frowns but recovers quickly with a smile. “A personal favourite.”

It shows. If Darren was good before, he’s incredible now. He closes his eyes and he looks peaceful. The wistfulness in his voice makes Chris think of home. As much as he dislikes Clovis, his family is there, the few friends he had in high school are there. All the best memories of his childhood will always have been made there.

Darren’s voice trails off into silence. There’s a breathless pause around the room and then rapturous applause. Some of the girls at the tables closest to the makeshift stage immediately start begging for “another song, just one more, Darren, please?”

But Darren laughs and shakes his head as he returns his guitar to its case. He grabs a bottle of water from Lauren at the counter and then crosses the shop to drop into the empty chair opposite Chris.

For a moment they just watch each other and then Darren asks, “So did you?”

Chris frowns. “Did I what?”

Darren jerks his head back to indicate the stage. “Leave your heart in San Francisco? Are you pining?”

“What? No. I’ve never even been there…but a friend of mine lives there. I think.”

Darren’s eyebrows rise into points. “You don’t know?”

He isn’t going to tell Darren about how his closest friend is on the other side of a computer screen; he isn’t that hopeless. “It’s complicated.”

“Huh. Well you should go sometime. It’s a great city.”

“Have you spent much time there?”

Darren grins. “You bet. I’m San Franciscan, born and raised.”

“That would explain why you played that song so well.”

Darren leans forward. “So you liked it? The music? I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you were even going to come.”

Chris smirks. “…It was okay, I guess.”

Darren huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please. You were so into it. I knew I’d win you over.”

“I didn’t leave the first time because the music was bad, you know.”

Darren inclines his head toward him in a silent invitation to continue.

Chris shrugs. “It was just distracting for me, that’s all. I was having a hard time working on an assignment and the music wasn’t helping. So I left. Last time I was heading to a class.”

“What are you studying?”

“Creative writing.” He rolls his eyes at Darren’s raised eyebrows. “I know, I know. Don’t tell me how jealous you’ll be of my high employability.”

Darren laughs. “It’s not that. I just know some writers. And, hey, you want to talk about employability? I’m getting a degree in fine art.”

“So we can be unemployed and homeless together?”

“I’m down with that. I can busk for spare change.”

“And what will I do?”

“Sit there and look pretty, of course. One of us has to and you’re more than qualified.”

Chris blushes and curses the fair skin that makes it obvious.

*** * ***

They leave the shop together and find that they both have to head in the same direction: Chris to the dorms and Darren to the apartment he shares with some friends. Rather than run the risk of awkwardly reuniting after already having said goodbye, they decide to just walk together as well.

Chris is surprised by how much he’s enjoyed spending the afternoon with Darren. He’s funny and smart and his pop culture knowledge puts even Chris’s to shame. What’s more, he actually seems interested when Chris talks about his writing, which is lucky because the interest just makes Chris want to talk about it more.

“So you have to write a romance story?” Darren asks as they wait for a car to move before crossing a street.

“Yeah. I already know mine’s going to be terrible. I’ll probably be lucky if I pass.”

“Hey now.” Darren touches his arm lightly.

That’s another thing Chris likes: the casual touches. Darren is pretty free with them, and doesn’t seem to think twice about touching his arms or nudging him with a shoulder. Chris is surprised by how much he likes them, even finds himself anticipating the next; he likes his own space more than most people he knows.

“Don’t get down on yourself before you’ve even started,” Darren continues. “That’s a sure road to failure.”

“I’m not getting down on myself. Not really.” They both instinctively slow when they round a corner and the dorms come into sight. “I just know romance isn’t my strong suit. I don’t write love stories.”

Darren’s frown in genuinely curious. “Why not?”

Chris shrugs. “Partly lack of interest. There are more stories out there than just how love saves the day. It doesn’t, not in real life. People separate every day. People die every day. Love doesn’t save them.”

Darren looks to the ground, his mouth downturned. “You don’t think that’s a very harsh way of looking at the world?”

“Maybe it is if you’re a romantic. But I’m a realist.”

“…I’m a romantic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that if it works for you. I’d just rather not delude myself. It only leads to disappointment.” When Darren still looks troubled Chris knocks him lightly with an elbow and smiles when he looks up. “It’s probably a good thing you’re a romantic, you know. It’ll help you write all those chart-topping love songs.”

Darren huffs a laugh and the corners of his mouth turn up. “So what’s the other part?”

They come to a halt at the entrance to Chris’s building and he shakes his head. “Other part of what?”

“You said lack of interest is only part of the reason. What’s the other part?”

“Oh.” Chris clears his throat, thankful that the fading light means Darren probably can’t see the shiftiness of his eyes. “Well, I guess I just…don’t have as much experience to draw from as other people.”

Darren’s eyebrows rise in a clear invitation to go on.

“I don’t really date much.” He’s ashamed of how ashamed he feels. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone other than himself but he lives in a world that thinks you’re nothing if no one wants you.

“Bad experiences?”

Chris is startled by the lack of judgment in Darren’s tone. “Uhhh…not really? I had a girlfriend in high school. I wasn’t out then. And I had a boyfriend for a few months when I started college, and I’ve been on a couple of dates here and there. I’m just not very interested in most people. Or most people aren’t very interested in me.”

“Well that can’t be true. I’ve only known you for an afternoon and I already think you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

Chris can’t help but laugh. “You can’t know very many people then. I’m a hermit. I hate going out. I prefer my own company. I would rather read than go to a club.”

“None of that means you’re not interesting. And I know tons of people so I obviously know what I’m talking about more than you do.” Darren’s lips purse for a long moment and then he blurts, “You should go out with me.”

Chris chokes on an inhaled breath and he coughs. “What?”

“You should go out with me. You’re fun, I’m fun. Together, we’ll have a doubly good time. And who knows? Maybe I can serve as inspiration for your story.”

Chris arches an eyebrow. “You think pretty highly of yourself, you know that?”

“Is that a yes?” Somehow, Darren’s eyes seem to double in size.

He has no reason to say yes. Darren said it himself: they’ve only known each other for an afternoon. Not even that, only a couple of hours if you add it up…but there’s no real reason to say no either. Darren makes him laugh and listens when he talks. He’s gone out with people who offered him less than that. There’s no one around to disapprove of Darren, except SanFran…but no personal details so he’ll never know. And he doesn’t count anyway. He might as well not even exist; no one else knows that Chris talks to him.

“Sure,” Chris says before he can stop himself and digs his phone out of his pocket so they can exchange numbers.

Darren grins; Chris is glad he said yes just for that. Darren’s happiness is contagious but Chris bites his own grin down to a bemused smile.

“I’ll call you,” Darren says as he’s backing away down the street. “Soon. Is tomorrow too soon? I’ll call you tomorrow. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

Chris laughs. “Good night, Darren.”

*** * ***

Darren is a man of his word because he calls the next day, while Chris is doing his laundry.

“Mini golf!” Darren says as Chris grumbles about the sock the washing machine just ate.

“I hear some people think it’s a sport.”

“Oh, really? Well _I_ hear it’s a pretty good first date option.” Darren pauses. “That’s a lie. I didn’t actually ask anyone. I Googled and thought it might be fun.”

“Lying to me already? That’s an auspicious start.”

Darren chuckles. “So whaddya say? There’s this place near campus that’s open until three in the morning!”

Chris sighs at the lone socks he’s holding and throws it in the trash. There’s a hole in the toe anyway. “I hope you don’t expect me to navigate the course that early in the day. Fair warning, I am not a morning person.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I was thinking we could get something to eat first? Pizza? I know a great place. Best pizza in Michigan, I swear.”

Chris laughs. “Promises, promises. But okay. Yeah.”

They agree on a time to meet, Darren gives him the address and Chris spends the rest of the day going about his regular routine. He does some homework, makes another attempt at the romance story that’s going nowhere, and goes for a jog around the block when he concedes defeat. When he gets back, he has just enough time to shower and change before he has to head out.

He does check his computer once before he leaves but SanFran isn’t online; Chris hasn’t seen him in a few days, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. The longest they’ve ever gone without talking is eight days.

It’s an easy ten minute walk from the dorms to the pizza place, which Chris doesn’t mind. Darren assured him that he has a car to get them to the golf course and then back to the dorms, but it would have been unnecessary, they’re all in such close proximity to each other.

Chris should be nervous. This is a first date, there should at least be butterflies. But there’s nothing. Is that good or bad? All his other dates had started with nerves. Then again, most of them never went anywhere so maybe nerves aren’t an omen of success.

Darren is waiting for him on the sidewalk. The shop has a big front window, with a neon sign displaying the name of the place. It’s pretty full. Always a good sign.

“You came.” Darren grins and moves in for a hug that surprises Chris at first but he returns it after a moment.

“I feel like you’re always saying that to me,” Chris says as he pulls away. “Do I really look that untrustworthy?”

“No, just way out of my league.” He pulls open the door and jerks his head to indicate Chris should go in first.

“Smooth.”

There’s no one to seat them; it’s not that kind of restaurant, but a server smiles warmly and invites them to sit anywhere as she hurries past, and reassures them someone will take their order soon.

Chris chooses a table for two along the wall adjacent to the front window and picks up the menu sitting on the quaint white tablecloth.

He checks out the pizza being served to a table near them and then eyes Darren critically. “How much can you eat? You’re small but you look like you could pack it away if you tried. Should we get one each or one to split?”

“Hey! You’re not so impressively sized yourself!” The gleam in Darren’s eyes tells Chris he’s teasing. “Let’s get a medium to split. They’re pretty hearty.”

After a short argument about the merits, or lack thereof, of pineapple on pizza, they settle on bacon, pepperoni, olives and green peppers. The wait is impressively short, given the number of people waiting to be served, and the pizza smells like heaven. It tastes even better.

“I hate to admit it,” Chris says, two slices in and sucking a stray string of cheese off one finger, “but you’re right. This is the best pizza in Michigan.”

Darren pumps a fist. “I told you you wouldn’t regret going out with me.”

Chris arches an eyebrow. “The night is young. There’s still plenty of time.”

Later, when Darren is trying to navigate the second hole, which Chris has already conquered, Darren asks, “So why Michigan?”

Chris shrugs. “It was the furthest away from California I could get.”

Darren glances up as he lines up a shot. “You hate California that much?” He reigns in his considerable energy and knocks the ball off the edge of the wall straight into the hole.

Chris claps slowly and then makes a show of marking Darren’s score on the card. Darren is definitely trailing.

They move onto the next hole and, as Chris sets up his ball, he says, “Not California so much as Clovis.”

“I’ve never been there.”

Chris huffs a laugh. “You’re not missing much. It’s a big town with a small town mentality. I suppose there must be worse places to grow up. No. I _know_ there are. But when you’re there, in it every day, it’s hard to believe that anyone else has it worse than you.”

Chris whacks his ball off the starting point and swears when it rebounds off the obstacle hard enough to end up almost back at his feet.

“So there isn’t _anything_ good there?”

“My family. My sister.” Chris lets out a slow breath and putts the ball across the green. It sails through the course, stopping just short of the hole. He smiles, satisfied. “Hannah’s my favourite person in the world.”

Darren nods. “Siblings are special. I mean, yeah, they can also be a major pain in the ass. But, if it came down to it, I wouldn’t want anyone other than my brother at my back.”

“I miss her.” He lines up and slots the ball into the hole, and then sweeps an arm across the course to invite Darren to take his turn. “That’s the only regret I have about coming here.”

“It’s good that you can be so sure. Most people aren’t.”

Chris laughs. “Most people aren’t as stubborn as me.”

*** * ***

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:01]:** Do you have regrets?

**CatInAPastLife [22:01]:** I regret choosing the chicken and avocado roll over the ham and salad one for lunch today.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:02]:** I’m serious. Do you ever think about how different your life might be if you’d taken the left fork in the road instead of the right? Do you ever wish you could go back and do it over?

**CatInAPastLife [22:07]:** This is all very deep and existential. What’s up with you?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:07]:** Do you?

**CatInAPastLife [22:09]:** Sure, I guess I’ve wondered. But everyone does. That’s life.

**CatInAPastLife [22:14]:** Are you OK?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:16]:** Yeah. Sorry. Hope I didn’t freak you out. I’ve just been trying to figure some stuff out.

**CatInAPastLife [22:17]:** …OK…I know we agreed no personal details but if you ever want to ‘talk’, I’m around.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:18]:** I know. I can always count on you, Cat. :)

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:18]:** So did you watch the last episode of Lost?

*** * ***

European History is one of Chris’s favourite classes so, normally, he doesn’t have any trouble paying attention.

But today all he can think is: there was no kiss.

It’s all he’s been able to think about for the last thirty six hours.

He’s half aware of the professor prattling on about Henry the Eighth and one of his many wives; he should have a good two pages of notes scrawled out by now. Instead, he’s got the title of the lecture and the date neatly at the top of one page…and that’s it.

There was no kiss. Why was there no kiss? The whole night went well; Chris has never been on such a successful first date. A meal, a fun activity, laughter and interesting conversation: it was all there. Darren drove him back to his building and then just…looked at him. His eyes had been troubled as his lips tightened.

Maybe he wasn’t sure if Chris was a kiss-on-the-first-date kind of guy, Chris thought, so he leaned forward and tried to smile invitingly. But in the end Darren turned to the steering wheel, leaned back in his seat and said that he’d had a great time.

Chris may or may not have slammed the car door on his way out.

What would SanFran say about it? They don’t talk about their romantic lives but, still, it had crossed Chris’s mind to bring it up last night. Except SanFran had been…off, and they ended up talking about TV shows instead.

The fact that he’s so distracted by it makes his stomach roll. It’s just one kiss. And even if it wasn’t, Darren is just one guy. Sure, he’s funny and smart and kind. But there are plenty of others out there.

Chris ends up at Honey Joy out of habit. Thankfully, Darren isn’t there but Lauren is just about to go on her break, so she slumps down in the chair across from his when she brings over his ham and cheese croissant, Diet Coke and brownie.

“Someone’s doing his best Mr Grumpy impression today,” she says.

He glares, which probably doesn’t help his case. “Is Darren coming in today?”

Lauren shakes her head. “Nope. He’s got class, or a voice lesson, or piano tutoring, or something.” She smirks and waggles her eyebrows. “But I’ll let him know how disappointed you are that he’s not here.”

Chris rolls his eyes and rips a strip off his croissant. “Please don’t.”

Lauren frowns in what looks like genuine concern. “What’s up? Didn’t you guys go on that date on Saturday night? I thought you’d be all over each other by now.”

He doesn’t mean to say anything at all but, before he can stop himself, he blurts, “There was no kiss!”

Lauren’s eyebrows shoot up and a number of heads turn in their direction. Chris flushes and glares down at the croissant he’s shredded.

“No kiss?” Lauren says slowly, as if she doesn’t quite understand what the words mean.

“Everything was great. We had the best pizza, I beat him soundly at mini golf, we talked, he drove me to my building and then…nothing.” He hopes his eyes aren’t as pleading as he expects they are. “Is he one of those no-kiss-on-the-first date guys? Because he doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“He’s not.”

“Well then what’s the problem? Is it me?”

She shakes her head and then sighs. “It’s not you, believe me. It’s just…complicated. And kind of stupid. But it’s Darren, so…” She shrugs, as if that explains everything.

“Lauren. We went on a date. It was awesome. How complicated could it be? Unless he’s got a wife hidden away somewhere.” He laughs but there’s a hysterical edge to it.

She chews her lip and her gaze skitters away.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Oh, my god. Does he have a wife?”

Lauren splutters. “No! Are you crazy?” She throws up her hands. “There’s…someone else, some girl. Sort of. Not really. We’ve been trying to convince him for ages that he has to let it go because he’s the only who can’t see that it’s never going to go anywhere. You’re the first person he’s actually seemed interested in for more than just sex in a really long time.”

He feels all the expression fall from his face. “So I’m his second choice.”

“No! You…He—”

“Lauren!”

They both turn and her manager is beckoning from the counter. Lauren glances at the clock and swears under her breath.

She stands, straightening her apron, and says, “Just, please, give him another chance, okay? He’s not completely hopeless.”

*** * ***

Darren might not be completely hopeless but apparently Chris is because, when he rounds the corner to his building later that afternoon and sees Darren leaning beside the entrance, Chris almost turns around and walks back the way he came.

But that would be well past hopeless. He hasn’t had even nearly enough time to process what Lauren told him, and try to make that fit what he knows about Darren so far, but he’s not a coward. He’s not going to just run away and give Darren that sort of power over him.

Chris is not in the wrong. That much, at least, he knows. He went out on a date with a guy who interested him. That guy maybe-sort-of being in love with someone else is not going to be his problem.

He holds his head high as he approaches; Darren clearly sees him coming and straightens to meet him. It would be petty to ignore him, so Chris stops a couple of feet away and hitches his bag higher on his shoulder.

Darren smiles, but it’s small and uncertain. “Hey.”

Chris’s shoulders tighten. “Hey.”

“…You’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Whoever said offense was the best defense had obviously never heard of ignorance.

“Because…” Darren glances around the front of the building, as if a hint will pop out of the concrete. “I’m not sure.”

Chris huffs and his lips purse before he can stop himself.

Darren winces. “Well now I _know_ you’re mad.”

Is it possible that Darren actually doesn’t get it? Has Chris made a big deal out of nothing? Lauren thought there was something off and she knows Darren a lot better than Chris does. But is Chris really going to admit that he’s upset about something as stupid as not getting a kiss on a first date? There’s still the mystery woman, though, and that’s definitely an issue if she’s the reason it didn’t happen.

Chris sighs; there’s a dull pain setting in behind his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Darren takes a deep breath, like he’s psyching himself up. “Saturday was good, right? We had fun?”

This is not the direction he would have expected the conversation to take. “…Sure.”

“Do you…want to go out again?”

Chris frowns. “…With you?”

Darren’s shoulders jump in a quick shrug. “You had fun. I did too. We’re pretty good together, or we could be.”

Chris holds up a hand to stop him going further. “Wait. You came here to ask me if I want to go out with you again.”

Darren nods. It’s more certain than the shrug had been but it still doesn’t inspire much confidence.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

The question makes Darren quiet and still. He meets Chris’s eyes for maybe the first time during the whole conversation and Chris can see now that he looks conflicted. Whoever this girl is, she must have some hold on him. But maybe Darren is coming to realise what Lauren says everyone else already knows: that there’s no future in it.

Chris wishes he could ask Darren about it, about _her_ , but he knows he won’t. He would be humiliated if their roles were reversed and Darren asked him about an impossible relationship. Chris isn’t even supposed to know. Lauren may not have been sworn to secrecy but she probably wasn’t supposed to be sharing it around either.

He has a sudden yearning to speak to SanFran, who always has such good advice, who is always so calm and doesn’t make fun of Chris’s tendency to overthink everything. SanFran would know what to do in this situation; it wouldn’t be the first time Chris has brought up a “hypothetical” personal situation. He’s sure SanFran knows it, too, and has probably done the same himself.

“I…”

Darren looks so torn that Chris wants to wrap his arms around him and squeeze. The urge is a shock; he’s only ever really comfortable being physically affectionate with his sister, and sometimes his mom.

He settles for a hand on Darren’s arm. “Look, Dare, there’s obviously more going on here than I know. And I don’t want this to be difficult for you. That wouldn’t be a promising start. Maybe we should just, you know, be friends. For now.”

Darren’s shoulders slump and he lets out a wet chuckle. “I actually really like you. But it’s…”

“Complicated, I know.” Chris nods. “For what it’s worth, I really like you too. And I did have fun on Saturday night. But I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t all in, right from the start. I don’t want to be set up for failure before we even get off the ground.”

Darren swallows and nods, but then manages to quirk a shaky smile. “You know, this might be a love story.”

Chris frowns but then nods slowly. Darren admitted himself that he knows other writers. “Yeah…maybe.”


	2. The Middle

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:26]:** Have you ever thought about meeting?

**CatInAPastLife [23:27]:** Meeting who?

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:27]:** Meeting me, of course. Who did you think? The Queen of England?

**CatInAPastLife [23:28]:** …Is that an actual choice? Because I have to be honest, if it comes down to it…I’ll choose Her Majesty.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:29]:** You cut me deep, Cat. You cut me real deep just now.

**CatInAPastLife [23:29]:** Shrek jokes. You’ve proved my point.

*** * ***

Being Darren’s friend is easy in some ways and difficult in others.

Darren is fun and easy-going and relatively low maintenance. He’s funny and smart, and he doesn’t mind when Chris is feeling particularly unsociable; they’ve actually just quietly shared space while doing their own thing more than once. It’s a relief, after a lifetime of people urging him to “Get out!” and “Do things!” and “Live life!”, as if the way he’s living his life seems wasteful to them. They share a number of common interests. They have conversations about Harry Potter, Star Wars and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that frequently devolve into arguments before they hit on something else that excites them both. And then they’re on to the next thing. In just four weeks, Darren has somehow accidentally become Chris’s best, non-blood-related friend.

And that’s a problem. Because that’s what makes things difficult.

Darren is not perfect (no one who actually knows him could ever say he is) but he’s perfect for Chris, for all the same reasons that things are so easy. He’s not bad to look at either, which doesn’t hurt.

Chris has never been so frustrated. He grumbles and tears his glasses off his face, then rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. The murmured conversation inside Honey Joy hits him, as if someone has flipped a switch.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Darren throws himself down into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

Chris sighs and takes a deep breath. What he’s not going to do is tell the truth. Thankfully, he has his writing in front of him to take the fall, and it wouldn’t even have to be a complete lie.

“This story,” he says, raising his head, and eyes the plate of ham and cheese toasties that Darren must have brought over with his Chai tea and Chris’s Diet Coke. “Is one of those for me?”

Darren laughs and pushes the plate closer to him. “They’re to share. Have as many as you want.”

Chris reaches for one and takes a bite out of the corner. He gasps when the hot filling touches his tongue and covers his open mouth with his free hand. Darren’s shoulders shake with barely contained laughs but he nudges Chris’s Coke nearer.

The fizzing of the bubbles against Chris’s burnt mouth is mildly uncomfortable but he forces himself to swallow, and sets the toastie back on the plate to cool before he eats anymore.

Darren grabs one for himself, tears it in half so that most of the ham falls out into one side, and makes a show of blowing off the emerging steam. “So what about the story?” he says, and takes a bite.

“It’s just…not working.” His head falls into his hand. “I can’t do this. I don’t write romance.”

He knows he’s whining, it’s there in the spike in his voice, and he hates that. Chris doesn’t like to complain about things. He’s always figured that if it’s worth complaining about, then he should just fix it; if he can’t fix it, there’s no point complaining.

When there’s no response, he glances up at Darren, who is watching him like he’s waiting for Chris to figure out something really obvious.

“What?” Chris bites out.

“You know…” Darren holds out the other half of his sandwich and Chris accepts it half-heartedly. “‘Can’t’ and ‘don’t’ aren’t the same thing.”

There is…not much Chris can say to that. He’s right, of course. There’s a great difference between them; at least in one there’s the implication of choice. But Darren is watching him like he’s waiting for a response.

“…And?” Chris eventually says.

“ _And_ you’re a writer, right? So there’s no reason you can’t do write this story if the only defense you’ve got is that you don’t write this genre.”

Chris sighs and rubs one of his eyes again. “This is all becoming way too philosophical for me.”

“Forget the romance element for a while. Just don’t think about it. All it’s doing is adding pressure. Why don’t you just find two people you want to write about…and write about them?”

“Then I’ll probably end up with a story about them having some kind of adventure in some far off place. And no romance at all. I’ll fail.”

Darren smirks, as if he knows a secret Chris hasn’t been let in on yet. “Just try.”

*** * ***

“Just try,” Darren had said, as if it’s so easy. Chris scowls. Maybe for Darren it is. God knows he can pull a melody out of thin air and make lyrics out of any situation.

He settles himself at his desk; his roommate is out—class, then holding down the front desk at a bowling alley downtown until late—so there’s plenty of time to get into a groove. Or tear his hair out in frustration. There’s really no telling which might come first, though if he had put money on it…

There’s a folder on his computer with all his attempts at the story saved in it, because he can’t bear the thought of throwing something away only to be hit with a bolt of inspiration later on. He ignores all those files, including the one he’s been plugging away at for the better part of the last week and a half, and opens a fresh document. As daunting as the empty page can sometimes be, right now he’s trying to be positive so all he can see is the potential. He could maybe write a great love story on these pages…if he just tries.

Chris takes a deep breath and lets his fingers rest on the keys. They’re smooth and well-worn; half the letters have been rubbed off and the F key sticks sometimes. He’s not sure what he wants to write or how to start, but sometimes it happens that way. Sometimes, he’ll have an opening line or a solid picture of a scene in his head, and others, he’ll have just a vague feeling or emotion that he wants to capture.

“Just try,” Darren said.

And that’s how he starts.

*** * ***

There’s a crick in his neck the next time Chris looks up. He arches his back and groans at the stiff muscles. It’s dark outside. A glance at the clock on his screen says dinner is well and truly over; the box of energy bars he keeps for emergencies will have to hold him until morning.

Chris rubs one eye under his glasses and idly scrolls up and down the pages of the document. Story. It’s a story now. It has a beginning and a middle and an end, which part of him still wants to change but knows that wouldn’t be serving the narrative. He’s written a love story for the modern age, about a couple who conduct an intense affair completely online…and then go back to their everyday lives: partners they don’t know they love anymore, kids who suck the energy out of them, bills that need to be paid, pets than need to be vaccinated, lawns that need to be mowed. The ho-hum of average, everyday life.

It’s a story that so desperately wants to be happy, like the people in it, but never quite gets there.

He’s almost afraid to admit it…but Chris likes it. It’s edgy and raw, and completely unlike anything else he’s written.

Normally, after he’s been writing, he likes to be alone. He needs time to process, to work through the emotions and the experiences of the characters. This time, though, he’s feeling vulnerable and maybe a bit lonely, and he’s distinctly aware that his roommate won’t be back for a couple more hours yet. He thinks about calling Darren...but it’s late, and he might be doing homework, or out with friends, or playing a gig.

He obsessively saves the story for what must be the tenth time since he last made a change and then pulls up the chat site he usually meets SanFran on. His sigh of relief leaves him in a rush when Chris sees SanFran’s name.

Chris hasn’t even had a chance to click it before a conversation window has opened on his screen.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:09]:** Wasn’t expecting to see you around tonight.

**CatInAPastLife [23:10]:** I’ve been writing.

Chris thinks about leaving it there. He could; SanFran knows that he writes. But he’s still feeling lonely and he actually wants to feel close to someone. It’s not like he’s being personal by acknowledging that he feels things.

**CatInAPastLife [23:11]:** It went really well. What I wrote is actually good. But it was really emotional and draining and I was kind of hoping you’d be around.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:11]:** Are you OK?

**CatInAPastLife [23:11]:** Yeah. Just don’t want to be alone.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:12]:** Don’t you have friends around?

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:12]:** Not that I don’t want to be here for you! Because I totally do!

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:12]:** Am! I totally am!

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:12]:** …None of this is coming out right.

Chris laughs and sends, “LOL” into the conversation, because he’s wondered enough about whether or not people are actually laughing when they say they are, to not make an effort himself.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:13]:** I just mean that I don’t want you to be actually alone if you need someone there. That’s all.

**CatInAPastLife [23:13]:** It’s OK. I get it.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:13]:** I don’t like to think about you being alone.

Chris stops with his fingers poised over the keys, his smile wilting. SanFran didn’t mean for that to come out the way it sounds; he can’t have done. Because it implies a level of care that…they don’t have in their relationship. His stomach jumps. They don’t have a relationship beyond secret, irregular conversations on a chat site. At least, Chris thinks it’s secret. He’s never told anyone, but that doesn’t mean that SanFran hasn’t told everyone he knows.

The thought of SanFran having other people bothers Chris more than it should. SanFran is Chris’s private person; he doesn’t like the thought of other people knowing or having him. But that in itself is crazy. SanFran is a person. He has a life, with people in it. He’s even mentioned his parents and brother before. He’s not Chris’s to own, and it would be wrong to ask for something so impossible.

He doesn’t want to talk to SanFran anymore, not tonight. The realisation is sudden and painful. He’s never _not_ wanted to talk to him before. There have been times when he’s had to tear himself away from their conversations, just so he could pass as a functioning human being the next day, but there has always been more to say than there was time to say it.

And now the thought of talking to SanFran makes him ache, like he did in senior year when he had to watch the guy he liked on the soccer team making out with his girlfriend during lunch.

If Chris doesn’t leave now, he’ll get caught up in him and be sitting here for hours.

**CatInAPastLife [23:18]:** I have to go.

His stomach churns while he waits for SanFran to say something.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:20]:** Are you OK? What happened to not wanting to be alone?

**CatInAPastLife [23:20]:** Yeah, sorry. On second thought, I’m really tired. Just need to get some sleep. I’ll see you around.

And then he signs out and closes the window, shuts down his whole computer, and slumps back in his chair. There’s music playing a room down the hall; it’s something classical but Chris doesn’t know enough about classical music to identify the piece. Footsteps pass outside his room and then the next door down opens with a thump because it always sticks a little.

Chris rubs his eyes, turns off his desk lamp and stands to get ready for bed.

*** * ***

A few days later, Ashley and Lauren hijack him just as he’s opening the door to Honey Joy. He hasn’t even stepped over the threshold before Lauren has grabbed his arms and pushed him back towards the street. Ashley closes the door decisively behind them when she steps on to the sidewalk.

“What’s going on?” he says, trying to catch his bag on his elbow.

“This is a kidnapping. Consider yourself kidnapped.” Lauren slides one of her arms through his, as if this will stop him breaking away.

Ashley holds up two paper bags and a can of Diet Coke. “Food and beverages have been provided. We’re considerate kidnappers.”

Chris arches an eyebrow and doesn’t know what to say, but apparently he doesn’t need to say anything because Lauren starts steering him down the street towards some unknown destination. Ashley falls into step on his other side.

“Where are we going?” he finally asks.

“Not far,” Ashley says.

“…Are we going to see Darren?”

Lauren and Ashley exchange a glance that is clearly meaningful to them; it just makes Chris feel like he’s in way over his head with these two.

“No.” Lauren smiles. “But we can talk more about that. Him. Darren. Mostly about how he hasn’t seen or heard from you in almost a week.”

“I’ve been busy.” Chris’s eyes skip away from hers.

Lauren doesn’t call him out. “He’s pining, Chris. Do you know what Darren’s like when he pines?”

“He’s insufferable,” Ashley chimes in. “And I’ve only seen him when he’s come in to play.”

“I’ll try to call.”

Lauren nods. “Please do.”

He will call Darren, Chris decides. Probably. It’s not like Darren did anything wrong. But Chris has been so caught up thinking about SanFran that he hasn’t really had much room to think about Darren as well. And, somehow, his brain has connected Darren’s push to get him writing with the SanFran fallout of the same day. The connection is too close and uncomfortable for him to handle right now. He doesn’t need a daily, physical reminder of his hopelessness. Because it’s hopeless. _He_ is hopeless.

They’ve arrived at a park that Chris didn’t know existed. It’s not much. There’s a swing set, a yellow slide so new it actually shines, and a battered wooden picnic table with two bench seats bolted to it.

Ashley and Lauren sit together on one side of the table; Chris sits on the other and tries not to feel like he’s on trial.

“So Lauren and I were talking and we realised that it’s really stupid that our entire relationship with you begins and ends with us bringing you food and more Diet Coke than can actually be healthy for one human being.”

With that said, Ashley pushes the two bags and the can across the table towards him. Chris immediately pops the tab and drinks, and then peeks into the first bag, which holds a ham and salad baguette, and then into the second, which has a chocolate chip cookie inside. He breaks a piece off the edge of the cookie and pops it in his mouth, before he gets started on his lunch.

Once he’s chewed and swallowed, he says, “Okay…”

“This is us trying to be friends,” Lauren says.

Chris frowns but it obviously teasing. “Most friendships don’t start with a kidnapping.”

Lauren shrugs. “Don’t question our methods. You haven’t run off yet, have you?”

He lifts the food as he slurps a sliver of red onion into his mouth. “You fed me. That was a wise move.”

To be honest, Chris is glad they forced him into this, not that he put up much of a fight. He likes these girls, from what little he’s had to do with them or observed during his time in the café. As much as he likes his alone time, there’s nothing wrong with making some friends occasionally.

“Great.” Lauren grins. “So now that we’re friends, you can tell us what’s going on with you. Or you and Darren. But mostly you, because we’ve noticed that you’ve been kind of…quiet and intense the last few days.”

“More quiet and intense than usual,” Ashley adds.

“Not that that’s a bad thing! We’re just concerned.”

“We want you to be happy.”

“And we don’t get the impression that you are.”

They both stare at him, as if this is enough to make him spill all his secrets to them, which is absurd. Sure, he’s known them for a while, but only over a cash register. He might as well cry on the shoulder of the teenage shop assistant at Dairy Queen.

The look on his face must give away how dubious he is about this whole conversation because Ashley smacks Lauren on the arm.

“Ow! Hey—!”

“You’re scaring him off! You were too intense! I told you to tone it down!”

“It’s fine!” Chris interrupts, when Lauren opens her mouth, presumably to argue back. He wants to cut them off because he’s getting the impression that these two might actually be crazy. “No one was scary.”

Lauren arches a pointed eyebrow at Ashley and then turns back to him, expectantly.

It’s clear they want an answer but that doesn’t mean he has to tell them the whole truth.

“I’ve just had a lot going on lately, for classes. There’s one, in particular. I have to write this story—”

“A romance story,” says Lauren, and Chris gawks.

“How did you know?”

“Oh,” she flips a hand, “Darren told me.”

Chris frowns. “He did? When?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Ages ago, I guess. He talks about you all the time. You’d think he’d talk about you less, now that you’ve been ignoring him all week, but nope. He’s still going.”

“I haven’t been ignoring him.”

“Does he know that?”

Chris bites his lip because the “Of course” that almost leapt out of his mouth felt like a lie too far. He almost can’t explain why. It just…feels like a betrayal.

He sighs and realises, in one shocking instant, that he wants to tell them. Tell them everything. About the story and Darren and SanFran, and how they’ve all become mixed up together, and how maybe SanFran means more to him than he ever actually realised. The fact that they’re almost strangers is soothing; they have no personal investment so they’re safe. Sure, they know Darren to varying degrees, but Chris gets the feeling that if he asked them to not tell, they wouldn’t. The thought of getting to be outside his head with the whole thing makes him feel weightless.

“…It’s not actually about Darren,” he begins. “He’s just caught up in it. Sort of. And it wasn’t even intentional. He’s actually been helping me with my writing, and I don’t know what he did, but it’s like he triggered something in my brain because when I got back to my dorm after seeing him last, I tried to write the story again and it just all poured out. Like it had just always been there, waiting for me to find it.”

Ashley and Lauren exchange a glance and he can tell they’re confused.

“That kind of sounds like it is about Darren,” Lauren says slowly. “But it doesn’t sound bad.”

“Well, yeah, except there’s…this other person.” He’s absolutely not going to tell them that he’s never actually met SanFran; he doesn’t need that kind of pity. “And I spoke to him after I had finished writing and I realised that…”

“You _like_ this person?” Ashley asks. It’s clear that she’s not talking platonically.

Chris drops his chin into one hand and shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve known him for a really long time. It’s like he’s just always been there. But I don’t like the thought of him having other people. How stupid is that?”

“Well,” says Lauren, bracingly, “it’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But it _is_ pretty stupid,” says Ashley, and fields a glare from Lauren, who apparently is more interested in handling the situation with kid gloves. “He exists. You can’t expect to be the only person in his life. I’m sure he doesn’t expect to be the only person in yours.”

Chris rests his chin in one hand and plays with the tab on his Coke can with the other. For someone who wanted to avoid pity, he probably looks pretty pathetic. “So what should I do?”

“Are you going to tell this person how you feel?” Lauren asks. There’s a lilt in her voice that Chris can’t decipher.

Chris frowns. _Tell_ him? Tell SanFran that maybe Chris has been half in love with him this whole time? Or, if not, that maybe he could be soon? They’ve never even met. For all Chris knows, SanFran already has someone. Hell, SanFran might even be married. With kids. Chris’s life seems to be made up of a series of awkward moments but, if he tells SanFran the truth, the whole situation could descend into more awkward than Chris can handle. SanFran is his person. Doing something that might lose him that would be stupid. And Chris isn’t stupid.

He shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“Then you have to let it go.” Ashley’s tone is hard, resolute. “Don’t keep pulling it back out to torture yourself with. Make a decision and stick to it. Move on.”

*** * ***

Despite his best intentions, Chris doesn’t see or speak to Darren until four weeks after the kidnapping incident. He’s tried to convince himself that the separation wasn’t intentional; he’s been busy, and since he, Lauren and Ashley started meeting up outside their work hours, he hasn’t been going to Honey Joy.

…He knows it’s been intentional.

Of course, when he does run into Darren again, it’s completely by accident. Chris joins the line in the campus cafeteria to pay for his packet of pretzels and realises too late that he recognises the beanie-clad head in front of him.

There are white earbud strings falling from Darren’s ears. Chris could take out his phone and pretend that he hasn’t seen him, and hope that Darren doesn’t turn around. What kind of person would that make him, though? He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a coward…just someone who has been ignoring his best friend for over a month.

So, he braces himself for a fight and taps Darren on the shoulder. Darren jumps and pulls out his earbuds as he turns around. When he meets Chris’s eyes, Darren’s eyebrows go up and his mouth tightens, just enough to notice if you’re really looking.

“Chris.”

Chris tries to smile but it ends up being more of a wince. It takes a lot to really piss Darren off; he’s so easy-going that most things just wash over him. But his voice is harder, colder, than Chris has ever heard it before, and his gaze skitters away from Darren’s.

“Lauren reassured me that you’re alive,” he says and turns back around to shuffle forward with the movement of the queue. “Don’t know if that made things better or worse.”

Chris sighs and steps closer to Darren’s back, to try and minimise the number of people overhearing their conversation. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m sure.”

Chris has never heard Darren sound so bitter. “I _am_.”

“Okay, fine. You’re sorry. I accept your apology. Happy?”

Chris frowns. “…Not if you don’t mean it.”

Darren whirls to face him; there are dark circles under his eyes and there’s stubble near the hinge of his jaw. “I haven’t heard from you in almost six weeks. At first, I figured you were busy. In a writing hole or something. I get that; it happens to me. But then one day I woke up and realised that you weren’t busy. You were ignoring me. So then I tortured myself trying to figure out what I did—”

“You didn’t do anything—”

“ _Yeah_. I know. I got there eventually. But what am I supposed to do with that? You just cut me out of your life because you felt like it? Fuck you!”

People are staring as Darren shoves his way to the front of the queue, throws some money to the cashier and storms out of the cafeteria. He almost bowls a pair of young women over as he goes. Chris feels hollow and sick; he’s actually the worst person in the world. And Darren isn’t the only person he’s been ignoring. What if Chris convinces himself to go back onto the chat site and SanFran wants nothing to do with him?

“He’ll forgive you,” a soft voice behind him says.

Chris startles and turns to look over his shoulder. It’s Lacey, from his writing class. She’s wearing a small pair of plastic-framed glasses that he’s never seen her wear before, and she’s sporting a pixie cut that she definitely didn’t have two days ago.

He meets her eyes. Can she tell that he’s seconds away from curling up in a ball under a table and pretending that he doesn’t exist?

“You really think so?”

She smiles gently and nudges him forward to keep the line moving. “If he’s so hurt by what you did, then he obviously cares about you a lot. And…I didn’t mean to overhear, but I did…and it doesn’t sound like what you did was completely unforgivable. Just…be around. Show him that you’re sorry. Maybe you could start by trying to explain why you did what you did.”

Chris shakes his head and hands over the money for his pretzels, then moves aside to wait for her. “It’s not that easy. There’s this whole other…thing, going on. I don’t think he would be moved towards forgiveness if I told him the truth.”

“Well, you can’t lie.” By silent, mutual agreement, they head towards one of the nearby empty tables. She cracks open her bottle of orange juice and drops a straw in it, then unwraps her sandwich.

“Have you ever had an online friend?” Chris asks, before he even realises he’s going to.

He wants to take the words back as soon as they’re out of his mouth. But it feels good to talk about SanFran out loud. He’s been existing only in Chris’s head for so long that it’s almost like he’s become a character, rather than someone real.

Lacey chokes on her juice and turns away to cough into her hand. When she turns back, her eyes are watering, but she still says, “Yes.”

Chris does a double take. “Really?” On second thought, he’s not sure why he’s surprised. They live in a technological age; if you’re not online, you almost don’t exist.

She nods. “We met on MySpace, back before everyone abandoned that ship. I was fifteen.”

“Are you close?”

Her smile is small and she takes a small sip. “We were, for a while. But we haven’t talked in a long time. Life got busy, we grew apart.” She shrugs. “I’m not beating myself up about it. I had exactly the friend I needed at the time.” When Chris doesn’t say anything, she says, “Is that what this thing with Darren is about? You’ve been talking to someone online instead?”

Chris laughs, but it’s a harsh sound. “It’s probably closer to the opposite of that. But I think the main problem is that I haven’t really been talking to anyone about anything important for a really long time.”

“So that’s it then. You can’t lie, and you’re past the time to do nothing. Maybe it’s time to just tell the truth. Deal with your online friend if you need to, and then figure out your real life problems. You shouldn’t let your online life get in the way of what’s right in front of you.”

His mouth pulls into a small, reluctant smile. “You say it like it’s so easy.”

She shrugs. “Just try. It’s a good place to start.”

He’s been hearing that a lot lately.

*** * ***

It’s been so long since he’s been online that he’s momentarily afraid that he’s forgotten his password. He hasn’t, of course; his fingers seem to move on their own once he’s put them on the keyboard. The loading wheel spins forever while Chris takes deep breaths and taps his fingers on the edge of his desk. What if SanFran has forgotten him? Chris scoffs and rolls his eyes. That’s stupid. Of course SanFran hasn’t forgotten him. But he might have moved on. What if he got so sick of waiting for Chris to reappear that he’s gone somewhere else? What if Chris never gets the chance to apologise, or explain?

What if Chris finally logs on and he’s just missed him? In some ways, that might be worse than anything else, because he’s not sure how he’ll talk himself into doing this again. At least if SanFran is properly gone, he’ll know it’s over.

Finally, the chat opens. Chris’s eyes jump over the list of people. The edge of his desk is biting into his palm where his hand is clenched around it. There’s one long, heart-stopping moment when Chris thinks SanFran isn’t online. And then, there he is.

Chris breathes a sigh of relief so hard his shoulders slump with it. He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that SanFran always talks first and is always quick to start the conversation. Chris can’t blame him for being surprised at Chris’s inevitably unexpected presence…But surely he’s noticed Chris is there by now?

He’s going to have to make the first move, Chris knows. Their last conversation ended so abruptly that Chris wouldn’t be surprised to find SanFran a bit gun-shy…even though he’s never really been that before.

Chris is stalling himself so he takes another deep breath—he’s starting to feel light-headed—and clicks on SanFran’s name.

**CatInAPastLife [22:03]:** Hey.

He winces. “Hey”? That’s all he’s got? Really?

He chews his lip as he watches the conversation window. SanFran isn’t typing. Why isn’t he typing? Is he talking to someone else? Is he ignoring Chis completely? Or is he just away from his computer? Chris’s stomach is churning. What if—?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:10]:** …Hey.

Chris wants to weep, he’s so relieved. But his hands fly to the keyboard. SanFran is here; they’re talking. Christ cannot waste the time on tears.

**CatInAPastLife [22:10]:** How have you been?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:13]:** Are we really going to pretend like we haven’t talked in over a month? I know we never had a strict schedule or whatever, but we still met up pretty regularly. And then nothing. And now you’re back, like everything’s the same?

Chris’s gaze drops to the keyboard, like he can’t bring himself to meet someone’s eyes. His computer chimes and Chris turns his attention back to the screen.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:15]:** Sorry. You just left last time. I thought I’d done something wrong. And then you didn’t come back and I started thinking you might have died or something.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:16]:** Because that could actually happen, you know? You could die and I would never know. You’d just be gone. And I would keep coming here long after, hoping to talk to you. But you would never come.

Chris feels sick again. He’s never thought about it like that before. But SanFran is right. And he’s been so focussed on figuring out how to not lose SanFran’s friendship that he never noticed that, as far as SanFran was concerned, it had already been taken away.

**CatInAPastLife [22:22]:** You’re right. And don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’ve just needed some time to think about things. To figure some things out.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:23]:** And did you?

**CatInAPastLife [22:23]:** Yes.

The world seems to be rushing past him in a blur. He forces himself to breathe.

**CatInAPastLife [22:25]:** I think we should meet.

Chris actually starts chewing his thumbnail while he watches the screen and waits.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:30]:** Meet? In real life?

**CatInAPastLife [22:31]:** Yes. Turns out, you’re my best friend. And I want to meet you. In real life.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:37]:** I suggested meeting weeks ago. You shot me down.

**CatInAPastLife [22:38]:** I thought you were joking! And I thought I had everything under control. But I don’t.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:38]:** And you think meeting me will help with that?

Chris laughs. It’s a desperate, hysterical sound.

**CatInAPastLife [22:39]:** No. But I think it’ll help me figure some stuff out.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:42]:** Are you even in the United States?

**CatInAPastLife [22:42]:** I am. I thought you’d worked that out. We’re always online at the same time. Did you think I was sneaking away from my life to chat with you in the middle of the day?

**CatInAPastLife [22:43]:** Or did you think I was unemployed, with no responsibilities and nothing better to do than hang out on the internet?

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:44]:** I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about it in real world terms.

SanFran is stalling, Chris can tell. He’s going to have to take the reins if he wants this to get anywhere.

**CatInAPastLife [22:45]:** Are you in San Francisco? Because my family lives in California, a few hours from there. We could meet up during the summer. I won’t be able to get there before then.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:45]:** I’m from San Francisco, but I don’t live there. I’m in Michigan right now.

Chris frowns and his hands pause over the keyboard. Whatever plans he was about to make are instantly forgotten.

**CatInAPastLife [22:47]:** Wait. Really? I’m in Michigan too.

**Lil’SanFranDude [22:54]:** So what do we do?

**CatInAPastLife [22:56]:** Let’s meet. This weekend. Saturday. Wait a minute. I’ll be right back, I promise.

He stops to think and then opens a new tab to confirm some details. Then, he switches back to the conversation. He half-expected SanFran to leave, but he’s still there.

**CatInAPastLife [23:02]:** There’s a shop called ‘Charlie’s’ in Ann Arbor. It’s a coffee shop but they do lots of other things too.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:03]:** I know it.

**CatInAPastLife [23:04]:** Great! This Saturday. Noon. I’ll be the one looking anxious and awkward.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:07]:** Really? We’re really doing this? You promise you’ll show up?

**CatInAPastLife [23:07]:** We are. And I’ll be there, I promise.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:10]:** …What if you’re a serial killer? You’d tell me if you were a serial killer, right?

Chris laughs again and rubs at his eyes. He thought he’d been relieved before, but that feeling was nothing to this. He’s so light he could float away.

**CatInAPastLife [23:12]:** I’m not a serial killer. But we should be responsible about this. Bring a friend and I’ll bring one too. And then even if neither one of us is a serial killer but it gets really awkward, we’ll have backup to bail us out.

**Lil’SanFranDude [23:13]:** You OK, Cat? You sound kind of hysterical.

Chris grins at the screen, the really unflattering grin that he hates but can’t help sometimes.

**CatInAPastLife [23:13]:** I’m just really excited. I can’t wait to finally meet you.

*** * ***

Charlie’s is smaller than Honey Joy. It’s off on a side road, so there aren’t many customers, even during lunch time. There’s a family crowded around one of the tables on the other side of the shop: two parents, a boy of about ten and a toddler in a stroller. A teenage boy is restocking serviettes at the counter, and Lacey is settled with her laptop and a hot chocolate at a table in the corner, by a large pot plant. She’s his backup because she understands the online friend thing and because he couldn’t bring himself to ask Lauren or Ashley. Part of the reason he didn’t choose Honey Joy for this meeting in the first place was because he didn’t want them watching and constantly interrupting. At least Lacey will be discreet. Of course, he also doesn’t want to risk Darren walking in while he’s finally talking to SanFran. He doesn’t want his worlds colliding like that. Not before he’s ready anyway.

He lifts his phone to check the time. 11:55. He’s already been sitting here for ten minutes; he couldn’t bear the thought of being late and SanFran giving up. Except he’d assumed that SanFran would be early as well, and hadn’t counted on having to wait, fidgeting like he really needed to use the bathroom, for so long.

The Coke can crackles when he goes to take another nervous gulp and then he shakes it when only a couple of drops dribble out. Empty. Has he really drunk the entire can already? Maybe he can signal Lacey to get him another? Murphy’s Law says that SanFran will come when he’s got his back turned.

Before Chris can decide, the door opens with a tinkle of the bell, and a guy about Chris’s age walks in. He’s tall, taller than Chris, long-limbed and lanky. Floppy, dark brown hair tops a kind of goofy face, but he’s glancing around the shop and he looks sweet. He’s nothing like Chris pictured but this is him. It has to be.

Chris straightens in his seat and makes brief eye contact with Lacey, who nods and gives him a sneaky thumbs up. He’s trying to figure out if he should try to get SanFran’s attention when the guy turns and speaks to someone in the doorway behind him. He comes further into the shop…and Darren walks in behind him.

Chris’s eye’s bug and he shrinks in his seat, trying to convince himself that there’s no need to dive under the table. So Darren is here. So what? Chris has just as much right to sit in a coffee shop as anyone and, if Darren asks, Chris can say honestly that he’s waiting for someone. Maybe Darren won’t even stay. Maybe he’ll just get something to go and be on his way before SanFran even arrives. But why would he choose today of all days to experiment with coffee shops? Is the universe really that cruel?

Darren is scanning the room and Chris can’t grab his phone quickly enough to avoid the eye contact but he tilts his Coke to his mouth before he remembers that it’s empty. Long seconds later, footsteps approach and Chris peeks over the can at Darren, who’s stopped next to his table.

“Hey,” Chris squeaks and coughs to clear his throat.

“Hey.” Darren stuffs his hands in his jeans and glances around the room. His gaze rests on Lacey for a long moment. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Chris tries to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m meeting someone.”

“Oh, right.” Darren nods. “Cool. Me too. I’ll let you get back to that.”

Chris nods but Darren is already hurrying off to the counter to order. He takes a hot drink and a plate of two giant cookies to a table in the corner opposite Lacey and sits. The guy Darren followed in takes what looks like an iced coffee to a table near Chris’s and pulls out a battered paperback. He flips to a page in the middle and starts to read. Surely if this guy was SanFran he would have approached Chris already?

He glances around the room, taking stock, and then over at Lacey. “Now what?” he tries to communicate with furrowed brows.

But all she gives him is a small shake of her head and a slight shrug.

Chris checks his phone again. 12:09. SanFran isn’t that late, and maybe Chris made a mistake in assuming that SanFran lives close to Ann Arbor just because he knows about Charlie’s. Michigan is a big enough state; maybe SanFran had a long way to come and got stuck in traffic. Chris will have to apologise for not offering to meet halfway, if that’s the case.

He glances out the front window but there’s no one who looks like they’re about the enter the shop, so he stands, throws out his empty Coke can and buys another. The boy behind the counter has to go out the back to get a fresh can so Chris tries not to stare at Darren while he waits. But Darren is what his gaze inevitably returns to whenever he tries to force it away.

Darren has shaved. Properly. And he’s wearing what Chris knows is one of his nice t-shirts. He’s browsing on his phone, chin propped on one fist, but, from where he stands, Chris can see one of Darren’s legs bouncing under the table. The cookies on the plate haven’t been touched.

Chris returns to his table and scrolls idly through Facebook while he tries not to drink his Coke too fast this time. 12:30 comes and goes. The family of four leaves in a burst of tired cries from the toddler. Chris isn’t normally one for tears, but he wants to cry too. This must have been SanFran’s plan all along, payback for Chris disappearing from his life without explanation. There was never any hint that SanFran was that malicious, though; in fact, SanFran is one of the nicest people Chris has ever met. Almost met.

He rests his head in his hands and then jerks his head back up when he remembers that Darren is still sitting in the shop. But Darren isn’t paying any attention to him; instead, he’s slumped in his chair, picking at one of the cookies in front of him.

…One of the two cookies that Darren had bought and not eaten.

…Because Darren had come to Charlie’s to meet someone.

…Someone who clearly had not shown up.

Chris might throw up. This isn’t possible. What are the chances that the guy Chris has been talking to online for almost two years is the same guy Chris had met in a coffee shop, befriended and gone on a date with? Things like this don’t happen in real life…except that it obviously is happening. The coincidences are too many to be discounted. Darren is from San Francisco—it was one of the first things he’d ever told Chris—and he lives in Michigan. He has an older brother like SanFran, he loves all the same books, movies and TV shows that SanFran does, and he has admitted to having a wide and varied taste in music, which SanFran had also told him once, a long time ago.

He eyes the guy reading the paperback nearby. Chris had ultimately decided that he and Darren didn’t know each other; their words at the door might have just been an apology for stepped on toes, or something equally innocent. But now…Chris had told SanFran to bring a friend. And Mr Paperback is working hard to look just as inconspicuous as Lacey.

Across the shop, Darren checks his phone and rubs the back of his head. That’s one of his indecisive tells. He must be trying to decide if he should just give up and go home, abandoned again.

Chris can’t let that happen. If Darren really is SanFran, then Darren ended up doubly ignored, and Chris really is twice as guilty. They mean—he means?—too much to Chris for him to just let Darren leave the shop broken-hearted.

He takes a deep breath and stands before he can let himself think twice. He drops his second empty Coke can in the trash and crosses the shop to Darren’s table. Darren looks up at him, tired and a bit sad, and Chris has to swallow hard because he needs words to come out when he opens his mouth.

“Lil’SanFranDude,” Chris says.

Darren’s mouth drops open. “What?”

Chris laughs. It’s edgy and a little wet from the tears he’s still determined not to shed. “Sorry it took so long for me to figure it out. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Cat.”


	3. The End

Lacey and Darren’s friend Joey go home. Clearly, neither Chris nor Darren is a psychopath, and there’s nothing that can save them from the potential awkwardness of this encounter.

They sit and stare at each other for the longest time. For all that Chris’s mind was full of flashing red lights when the realisation hit him like a freight train, now he’s surprisingly calm. Really, this isn’t the worst thing that could have happened, just the most statistically unlikely. He helps himself to a piece of broken off cookie and tries to ignore Darren’s fingers drumming on the table.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Darren says. “You’re Cat. I’ve been feeling so conflicted and, this whole time, you’ve been the same person.”

“Conflicted?”

Darren cringes and shakes his head. “My friends were always on at me to find someone real. To let go, at least a little bit, so that I wasn’t having this fantasy relationship. And I get it, I do. We never promised each other anything and hanging on so hard wasn’t healthy. No one else I ever met made me feel so connected, though. When I met you at Honey Joy, everything changed. I started thinking maybe I could have something in real life. I wanted to tell you everything. But when we went on that date and started hanging out more…I started feeling like I was cheating on Cat.”

The cookie is sickly sweet. Chris forces himself to swallow and then sets the uneaten part back on the plate. He wants to say something but he doesn’t know what, doesn’t know how to comfort Darren in this. He can’t say that he, as Cat, wouldn’t have been jealous of Darren’s new friendship or relationship but it’s not like he would have ever known. Cat and SanFran never talked about relationships, not really. That was one of Chris’s rules. Maybe he’d had feelings for SanFran all along and just hadn’t wanted to confront them. And why would he, when it seemed impossible that they would ever even meet, let alone have a chance at being together?

“This is so messed up.” Darren rubs his eyes with the heels on his hands. “I felt like I was cheating on you…with you.”

Chris sighs. A part of him just wants this conversation to be over. “You know, this _should_ make things easier. We like each other, as friends, maybe as…more, online and in real life.”

“But that’s the problem.” Darren smacks his hands onto the table and Chris jumps. “I don’t know, now, which you it is I want to be with. I had feelings for Cat—”

“You can’t have feelings for Cat without having feelings for Chris. We’re the same person!”

“Are you?” Darren’s eyes are wide and slightly red. “You’re exactly the same person online as you are in real life? You don’t pretend, not even a little bit, to be someone else?”

Chris glares. “If I pretend, you do too. Don’t put yourself on some pedestal of model online citizenship, like you’re better than me.”

“I’m not. That’s not what I meant. I just…” Darren sighs and slumps back in his seat. Chris hadn’t realised that Darren was bent half over the table, almost in Chris’s face, until he was gone. “It doesn’t matter how much you try to be like your real self. In my head, you’re two different people. I’ve had different conversations with both of you, trusted you at different levels, wanted to be with you to different degrees. Maybe I was stupid to fall to in love with an online façade but I couldn’t help it. It happened, and now I’m looking at you, trying to make myself feel those things…and I can’t.”

Chris bites his lip. He hasn’t cried yet, and he’s not going to start now. “So what are we going to do? Pretend that we don’t know each other when we cross paths in real life? Keep seeing each other online? What kind of relationship…no, what kind of _life_ , is that? I’m real, Darren. You can’t just pretend that I don’t exist.”

Darren glares. “Why not? You did. For six weeks, I didn’t have you online or in real life.”

Chris’s stomach is rolling. He wants to grab Darren and shake him. As if this situation isn’t hard enough, he has to go and bring up that too?

“I apologised for that. I was confused. Because of _you_ , in case you’re too dense to have figured that out. I liked SanFran, I didn’t want anyone else to have him but me. And then there was you, Darren, always around. I didn’t know what to do. I needed a break.”

“You couldn’t have told me that?”

“Told you what?” They’re in each other’s faces now. Maybe Lacey and Joey should have stayed after all. “That I was in love with someone on the other side of a computer screen? Someone I’d never met? Someone who might be a 50 year old getting his kicks by hanging out on the internet because his wife won’t put out? I know how pathetic that sounds; I didn’t need that kind of pity.”

Darren opens his mouth to say something, maybe to defend himself, but Chris isn’t finished.

“And while you’re flinging accusations at me, how about we talk about you jerking me around this whole time? You were flirting with me. You _wanted_ me to like you. We went on a date, Darren, a good one. We had fun and then nothing! And then you come back, trying to convince me to go out with you again, like the thought physically pained you. Was I supposed to be flattered? Was I supposed to feel lucky, when you decided to just be my friend instead? You didn’t change, Darren. You still flirted with me. You still wanted me to like you. And I did. Except this time I knew that you didn’t want me back. Is your ego that fragile? Are you that vain?”

Chris’s breathing is heavy and ragged. The teenage cashier is staring from behind the counter, probably wondering if he should call the police. Ordinarily, Chris might be embarrassed by losing control like this in public but, right now, he’s too angry to care. He’s not going to let Darren act like he’s the wounded party in this, like it’s all Chris’s fault, when Darren isn’t innocent either.

Darren’s face is red and his mouth is pressed into a tight line. Chris expects him to explode with a stream of curses but, instead, Darren stands so violently that his chair clatters to the floor behind him. He swipes his wallet and phone from the table and stuffs them in his pockets.

“This was a mistake. But thanks for organising this meet up. It’s really cleared some things up.”

Then he storms out of the shop, slamming the door so hard that it lands with a crash. The tinkle of the bell above the door that fills the sudden silence is almost offensive in its light-heartedness.

*** * ***

It’s Monday afternoon, and Chris and Lacey are tucked away in the back corner of the library. Lacey had backed down with surprising grace when he had told her that he’s not going to talk about Saturday, SanFran or Darren anymore. In fact, he’s determined to pretend that he’d never even met either of them, and that the whole thing never happened. They’re there to discuss his love story for Creative Writing, not his tragic love life.

The second to last page turns with a rustle, where it catches on the staple holding all the pages together. Lacey absentmindedly wrestles it flat; Chris tries not to bite his nails while he waits for her to finish reading.

The assignment is due soon. Alarmingly soon. He’s not sure where the semester has gone. He’ll have to start looking into flights home for the summer sooner rather than later, unless he can line up some kind of worthwhile summer job on such short notice.

“It’s good, Chris,” Lacey says, flipping the pages back to the beginning. “It’s really good. What’s the problem?”

Yeah, it is, Chris knows. In fact, it might just be the best thing he’s ever written. But when he reread it yesterday, planning to make any final tweaks, it all just felt…wrong.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says and takes the pages back just to give his hands something to do.

She frowns. “Do you have to? It’s a great story, it’s told well, you feel for the characters and it meets the criteria. No one ever said that writers have to like their own work. Actually, some things might be easier if they liked their work less.”

“But…don’t you think the story just feels sort of…hopeless? Like, these people are never going to be really happy, so what’s the point?”

Lacey plays with one of the rings she’s wearing while she thinks; Chris isn’t sure what he wants her to say, isn’t sure if her agreeing with him would make the situation better or worse.

Finally, she shrugs and says, “There is a sense of hopelessness in it. These two people have found this amazing thing but they’ll never be together and they know that, so they figure out how to deal with it and then move on. It’s hopeless, yes, but that doesn’t make it pointless. I mean, you could come away from it knowing that at least they know there’s something better out there for them. Maybe this isn’t it, but one day they might find the courage to get out of the ruts they’re stuck in and have the lives they dream about. A story like this can challenge readers. What are you willing to give, how far would you go, to be happy?”

She arches an eyebrow at him, and Chris looks down to smooth the paper beneath his hands. “That felt very pointed.”

Lacey huffs a laugh that makes her shoulders shake. “There’s nothing wrong with this assignment. Kenna told you to write a love story, and you have. Until yesterday, it was fine, and that makes me think that whatever happened with Darren on Saturday is clouding your judgement.”

His jaw clenches. “My judgement is _not_ clouded.”

“Really? So you’re not thinking about writing a completely different story about a troubled couple that has a lovey-dovey happy ending? Maybe the ending that you think you and Darren will never have?”

“No!”

Her eyebrow rises again, higher than before; Chris isn’t sure how she does it but he wants to learn. Then he refocuses on her face. She’s wearing a smirk, looking more smug than her quiet demeanour should allow.

“This is _not_ about Darren, or SanFran, or the internet,” he insists. His fists are clenched so hard they’re trembling.

That makes her pause and she eyes him critically. It’s the same look Kenna wears when whichever student answering her question is on the verge of a breakthrough. Maybe Lacey thinks he needs a push, though, because she says, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not about any of those things. Maybe it’s really about you.”

*** * ***

This is not about Chris. Lacey is wrong. She’s wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

And Darren’s wrong, too, while Chris is at it. So he’s not sure who Chris even is? Fine. Let him be confused. It makes no difference to Chris anyway. Chris doesn’t need Darren _or_ SanFran. He did without either of them for six weeks and he was just fine.

The computer on his desk is mocking him. Chris is trying to focus on his Biology textbook because he really needs to study if he wants to have any hope of passing his final exam. But his eyes keep darting up to the computer. Normally, Cat would be meeting SanFran online right about now. Obviously Chris isn’t doing that tonight because SanFran is not a person who exists in Chris’s life anymore, thank you very much.

But he can’t stop thinking about the chat site. Is SanFran there? Is he waiting for Cat? All signs point to no. Even if he _is_ there, he almost certainly doesn’t want to talk to Cat. What if SanFran is there, waiting, just to have the chance to ignore Cat when he arrives?

…What if he’s not there at all? What if he’s completely given up? Closed the door? Turned his back on everything they ever had and might have had the possibility to have?

Chris isn’t sure which would be worse. But he has to know.

He slings his book off his lap and throws himself into his desk chair, and then sits on his hands while his computer wakes up. When his browser opens, he hesitates for just a second before clicking the link. He’ll be quick. In and out, just to gauge the situation, then he’ll go back to…whatever he was supposed to be reading about.

It takes an age for the site to finally open and then…Chris slumps back in his chair, feeling like the bottom has just dropped out of his stomach. SanFran isn’t there. _Darren_ isn’t there. Chris hadn’t really believed that Darren wouldn’t show up. He had assumed that, given some time, Darren would relax, calm down, talk to him again. Is he really that angry? That hurt?

And, if he is, what is Chris going to do about it? He can’t convince Darren that he and Cat are the same person, not least because he’s started wondering if that’s actually true. Cat is a façade, a persona he wears when he’s talking to SanFran, because Cat is more confident, more in control, more cool, than Chris is. Cat stacks up against SanFran in ways that real-life Chris never could. Cat is just… _more_.

But if that’s true, then it must go both ways. Surely SanFran isn’t an exact replica of Darren. He can’t claim that Chris has been fooling him when Darren has been maintaining his own online identity.

Maybe Chris is overreacting. Maybe Darren is out right now and won’t make it to the chat until later. Chris sets his status to Away and then grabs his textbook so he can settle back and do some reading while he waits. But his gaze strays from the pages so that he never actually grasps the meaning of the words and his stomach is churning. With each fifteen minute block that passes, Chris feels more and more sick. By the time three hours have passed, Chris’s eyes are drooping and itchy, and he knows: Darren isn’t coming.

After reluctantly shutting down his computer—if he waits just five more minutes, maybe Darren will show—and getting ready for bed, Chris lies awake for hours. His roommate doesn’t come home, but he has a new girlfriend so Chris isn’t entirely worried. He wouldn’t mind the company, though; he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he just wants to feel like he’s not alone. The familiar, rumbling snores would be comforting and welcome, for once.

SanFran is his best friend. _Darren_ is his best friend. There’s no one else he wants to talk to or be around more. He can’t just let all that fall away because the universe threw them together in a way that most people wouldn’t actually believe. He has to do something, he has to fix this. But how? Darren would probably sing a song. Chris thinks he sings passably well himself, but big and showy just aren’t him. He’ll have to use words. But what should he say? And how should he say it? He was a high school debate champion, but he can’t convince Darren that Chris and Cat are the same. There’s no evidence. Either Darren will trust Chris enough to give them a chance, or he won’t.

The thought makes Chris’s skin crawl. He likes to be in control; it’s one of the reasons he likes writing so much. Everything that happens, happens because it’s what he wants. He can save the sick little girl, he can give the hero the sword that kills the dragon.

He can give people happy endings that might not exist in real life. Suddenly he understands what Kenna and Lacey have been saying about romance stories; he gets why people want to read them. And the knowledge of what he’s going to do hits him like a punch to the gut.

*** * ***

It all happens in a bit of a mad rush. With the end of semester looming, there are essays to write and exams to get through, on top of study groups and regular classes to attend. Chris lugs his laptop everywhere and grabs every spare moment he can to work on his project for Darren. He starts and scraps it six times before he realises that he’s trying too hard to be literary. What he really needs to do is tell the truth. He’s spurred on by the fact that Darren hasn’t been online at all since their falling out; Chris knows, because he’s waited every night, half hoping that’s he’s made this into a bigger deal than Darren actually thinks it is.

When it’s done, he calls Lauren and sits through an eleven-minute long scolding about how neither she nor Ashley have seen or heard from him in days. Luckily, she accepts his profuse apologies, but he makes a mental note to stop ignoring his friends in the face of emotional crises in future.

Finally, he gets a moment to ask, “When is Darren’s next gig at Honey Joy?”

There’s a long pause; he can picture her frowning, one fist propped on her hip.

“…Friday afternoon. Did something happen between you two? Did you have a fight again? Did you never talk to him? Did you hook up with him and regret it? Because your name is forbidden around here these days and no one will tell us why, and it’s kinda worrying.”

He almost wants to tell her but he’s hoping that, by this time next week, the story of how he and Darren met will be a cute one they can all laugh about. Plus, he has a class in ten minutes and if he starts telling her anything he’ll be overrun by endless questions.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he eventually says. “But if Friday goes well, maybe I’ll tell it to you. Right now, I have class.”

“Fine, fine.” He can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “See you Friday.”

“Oh! And Lauren!”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Darren I’m coming in on Friday, okay?”

“…Seriously? It’s _that_ bad? What happened between you two?”

“You won’t tell?”

She sighs. “No, I won’t. Promise.”

*** * ***

The three days until Friday pass. Sometimes it feels like the furthest away anything has ever been, but other times, Chris gets dizzy just thinking about how little time stands between him and the chance to make things right.

Fifteen minutes before Darren’s set is due to start, Chris heads out. He’s timed it carefully. If he arrives too early he’ll just sit there stewing in his own nerves; if he arrives too late, he might throw Darren off his performance, and he really doesn’t want to do that. He also declines Lacey’s offer to go with him. Ashley and Lauren don’t know as much about the situation, obviously, but they’ll be there if things get really bad. Mostly, though, Chris knows that this is something he just has to do on his own.

The bell chimes merrily when Chris steps through the door with five minutes to spare. It’s been so long since he’s actually been here, it feels like everything should be different, especially given how much has happened in his own life, but everything is remarkably unchanged. The only thing he doesn’t recognise is the sign behind the counter, advertising Honey Joy’s new apple crumble slice.

Ashley is manning the register when he joins the back of the queue. Her eyes light up when he reaches the counter.

“Colfer! Lauren said you’d be showing up today! I didn’t believe her ‘cause I was starting to think you’d died and she’d just hallucinated your phone call in her grief.” She glares and Chris flushes.

“Sorry, Ash. Really. I’ve just had a lot of stuff going on. But hopefully today will fix it and we can hang out before we head home for the summer, okay?”

Ashley eyes him like she’s trying to read his mind. “Are you going to serenade Darren in the middle of my shift? Because I’ll need to grab my phone. Two cuties like you in a romantic reunion YouTube video? I’ll be on every talk show in the country.”

Chris quirks an eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint, but no serenades from me. Nothing YouTube worthy either.”

She pouts and then glances at the line Chris can feel building at his back. “You ruin all my fun. What’ll it be? At least tell me you’re still living on Diet Coke.”

He smiles but can feel that it’s strained and nervy, and orders an orange and poppyseed muffin. He’ll probably pick it to crumbs but at least he’ll have something to do with his hands.

Chris settles at a table in the back corner, not his usual table, but one that will be out of Darren’s line of sight. He doesn’t want Darren to know he’s there, at least not right away.

The wait is excruciating, but at least it’s short. Chris has only been sitting for a couple of minutes when the door opens and Darren trudges in, shoulders slumped forward. He doesn’t look terrible but the smile on his face is strained. Chris isn’t glad, exactly, but it’s good to see that he’s not the only one torn up about this.

Darren doesn’t look around the shop, just waves hello to Ashley as he crosses the floor and settles onto his stool. He makes polite small talk with the people sitting nearest him while he fiddles with the pegs on his guitar, then shifts his weight to prop a foot on a rung of the stool and starts to play.

He starts with the classics, literal ones and songs that he’s been playing at Honey Joy since he started there. There are upbeat songs that make people bounce in their chairs and sing along, and short instrumentals Chris knows now are deceptively simple. “Human” is part of the set, and Chris can pick out the regulars by seeing which of the customers know all the words.

The last song is one Chris only vaguely knows. Darren had been just starting to learn it in the last weeks before everything went to hell. He’d done homework to the background noise of Darren fumbling around with the chords. This is the first time he’s heard the lyrics.

Chris’s breath catches in his chest before he reminds himself to breathe. The people in the shop are silent, everyone watching Darren and listening to him sing. Darren doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are closed now, and there’s a small upturn to the corner of his mouth while he sings. It’s so beautiful and quiet, and makes Chris want to sleep beside him for as long as he can, and be his friend always.

When the song ends, there’s a healthy smattering of applause. It isn’t wild but Chris thinks that has more to do with the nature of the song more than with Darren’s performance. In the past, Chris has been impressed by the volume of the cheers Darren has received at the end of a set, considering he’s playing in a coffee shop.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The set is over, Darren is already putting his guitar away. Chris has to do something. If he doesn’t do it now, he never will.

His mouth is dry and his hands are shaking as he weaves between the tables. It’s not a big shop, so he’s standing behind Darren before he realises how close he is.

Chris clears his throat. “Hi.” He winces. Why didn’t he plan what he was going to say better? Opening lines have never been his forte.

Darren’s whole body stills, and Chris bites his lip. Darren is always moving, unless he’s playing a character that requires stillness and control. He’s not sure how much he likes being the one to force Darren out of his own mannerisms.

Chris can see Lauren and Ashley at the counter, not so subtly watching them, from the corner of his eye. They’re forgotten about as soon as Darren turns to face him. His eyes are tired behind his glasses.

“Hi.” Darren says, and then they’re just standing there, staring at each other.

Chris’s palms are sweating and he can feel the eyes on them. They’re so awkward they must be drawing the attention of everybody in the shop by now.

He makes himself smile, and hopes it doesn’t look too pained. “Can we sit? Please? I have something for you.”

Darren’s eyebrows dip. He’s confused but intrigued. Chris knows how much he likes to know things, and isn’t ashamed to admit that part of his plan to get Darren talking to him in the first place was to play on his insatiable curiosity.

Darren is wavering, so Chris says, “It won’t take long. You can leave as soon as you want, I promise. And if you never want to speak to me again after today…that’s fine too.”

Darren sighs. “…Okay. I’ll stay. But I’m meeting Joey in an hour so I have to get going soon.”

Chris’s face blooms into a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too manic. “Great. Let’s sit. I don’t want you to be late.”

They settle at Chris’s table. Chris leans against it, arms folded on the top; Darren is sitting as far back in his seat as he can, hands in his lap. For a moment, Chris just drinks him in and remembers the first time he ever saw Darren, how irritated he’d been by the distraction, how he was already planning to tell SanFran about the guy with the guitar in the coffee shop. Who’d have thought they’d end up here?

“I get why you’re angry,” Chris begins. “I was, too, at first. I was angry at you and at the universe. Then I realised how lucky we are. Some people who would be great together never find each other and go through life not knowing what they’re missing. But we were lucky. We found each other twice.”

Darren says nothing, but his gaze drops to the table. Chris sighs quietly, so Darren won’t hear, and leans down to grab the plain white envelope out of his bag. He holds it between his fingertips, feeling the crease of the sheets of paper inside. It takes a lot but he holds it out to Darren across the table and waits.

“…You wrote me a letter?” Darren’s hands are clenched into fists.

Chris shakes his head. “I wrote you a story.”

He feels his heart pound once, twice…and then Darren takes the envelope.

*** * ***

_Once upon a time, there was a boy named Chris. He had a mother, a father and a younger sister, but he didn’t have many friends. Most people, especially other children, thought Chris was strange and treated him very badly. Chris loved to write. He wrote many stories about children who escaped real life and had amazing adventures with amazing friends. All Chris wanted was to jump into his stories and leave real life behind, so that he could be the hero, save the day and have people to admire and love him._

_One day, when Chris was feeling especially lonely, he met a Boy. It didn’t take long for them to become good friends. In fact, this new Boy was the best friend Chris had ever had. They talked for many hours, over many months. Soon, talking to his new friend was the best part of Chris’s day._

_The Boy knew all sorts of things about all sorts of things. He could make Chris laugh and smile after a tiring day, and he was the only person Chris wanted to talk to when life was really bad, as it often was._

_There was just one problem. Chris and the Boy had never met in real life. The Boy lived in another world, one that Chris didn’t know how to get to. Chris liked it that way, it made him feel confident, comfortable, like when he was writing. The Boy wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and he couldn’t be controlled like the characters in Chris’s stories, but Chris could control their conversations. More importantly, he could control himself. By doing these things, he could be a better version of himself, a version of himself that other people would like to know and spend time with. If the other children knew this Chris, he was sure they couldn’t help but like him._

_Then, Chris met a Young Man. He was everything that Chris wasn’t: loud, outgoing and the life of every party. He had the most beautiful voice. When he sang, Chris wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in the music. Chris liked the Man and, more importantly, he liked who he was when he was around him. When he was with the Man, Chris didn’t feel like he had to be loud, outgoing and the life of every party if he wanted to be liked. It was enough to be exactly who he was. The Man liked him that way._

_He didn’t expect the monster. If he had, he certainly wouldn’t have expected it to come from inside himself. But come the monster did. It confused him, wrecked him and made him afraid of all the things he had loved before, especially the Boy._

_Yes, Chris loved the Boy, he knew now. It was the worst feeling in the world, because he thought he loved the Man too, but the Man didn’t want him. No, the Man, who accepted him exactly as he was, loved someone else. Loving the Boy was a terrifying thing, because if he admitted to it, if it became a real thing, then Chris would have to give up all his control. The Boy would be able to do anything he wanted to him. He could break Chris’s heart and leave him forever, and Chris felt like he could die at just the thought of it. But the thought of doing nothing grew inside him so that it almost choked him every day that he stayed away from the Boy._

_He sucked up his courage, fought his way into the Boy’s world and, when he met the Boy, he knew his face._

_Because the Boy and the Man were the same. All the time Chris had spent with the Man, he had also spent with the Boy, and never known it. Even still, he knew that he had been living two lives. The Boy knew it too; he was angry, betrayed. Chris didn’t know how to fix it. He wanted the Boy to trust him, to love him, to be his friend. Chris wanted to tell him everything, say out loud all the things he had only ever written to him, and write out all the feelings and thoughts he’d never had the courage to say out loud. He wanted the Boy to sing soft, sweet songs to fall asleep to, and wanted the Man to write down all the thoughts he only had in the dark depths before dawn._

_He knew that there was nothing he could do to make the Boy trust him. There was no magic spell he could cast, no star he could wish on. In the end, there was just him: imperfect, flawed and so afraid. Just him and his words and the truth._

_Chris loved the Boy and he loved the Man. He loved them both the same._

*** * ***

Chris tries to breathe evenly while he watches Darren read the story once, and then twice. Watching people read his work always makes him itchy, but this is a whole new level of anxiety. He has to sit on his hands to stop himself snatching the pages away and stuffing them in his bag.

It’s not the best thing he’s ever written, not even by half. He stressed about that at first. What was the point of giving Darren something that felt half-baked? Then he realised that it wasn’t the quality of the piece that was important. If the message wasn’t there, it wouldn’t matter how well-written it was. Chris had to tell the truth, before anything else.

Finally, Darren looks up. Chris can’t read his face.

“You wrote me a fairytale?” Darren asks.

It’s not the first thing Chris expected him to say but that’s okay. Almost nothing about this entire experience has gone anything like Chris expected it would.

“No,” he says, and is proud when his voice doesn’t shake. “I wrote you a love story.”

Darren’s mouth twists. “Is that why it doesn’t have an ending?”

Chris can’t stop a breathy laugh. “Actually, it doesn’t have an ending because I don’t know how the story ends yet. That’s actually why I’m here…I was hoping you could tell me.”

Darren glances down again and Chris can see his gaze jumping over the page he still holds.

When he says nothing, Chris continues, “What I wrote is true, you know. I can’t make you trust me. I can’t make you want to get to know me, all of me. But I want to know all of you. Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had, the ones that made me think or laugh so hard I cried, they were all with you. When something happens to me, good or bad, you’re the first person I want to tell. It doesn’t matter what you call yourself. I know you, and you know me. You’re just scared but that’s okay because I am too.”

He’s rambling so he snaps his mouth shut before he can turn this into something out of _The Notebook_.

“You’re right,” Darren says, slowly, like he’s thinking about each word before it comes out of his mouth. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you. It wasn’t fair.”

“It’s fine. I haven’t treated you the best either.”

Darren shrugs it off. “I wasn’t really angry at you, if that makes it better. I mean, I still took it out on you, so that’s not okay, but you weren’t the problem. I just…I’ve always just liked what and who I liked, you know? But I’m not a bad person. I’m not a cheater. I don’t like hurting people. When I realised that you and Cat are the same person it was like something just…snapped. I had been beating myself about my feelings for Cat, and my feelings for you, and what I was going to do about any of it. And, after all that, then it turns out that you’re the same person. It wasn’t fair.”

Chris swallows. Nothing Darren has said has filled him with much confidence. “So…what are we going to do?” He forces a smile. “You have to tell me how it all ends. I have to finish this story, after all.”

Darren quirks an eyebrow and turns his mouth up in a shadow of a smirk that makes Chris’s mouth flip and his shoulders relax. “Shouldn’t you know? You’re the writer.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Allegedly.”

Darren hums and shuffles the pages. “I hate to tell you this, because I know what your feelings are about the genre…but I’ve always loved a romance.”

His insides are spinning and he feels dizzy. Maybe he’s been holding his breath this whole time. He heaves a mock sigh. “I guess I can make an exception. But just for you.”

*** * ***

The window in Chris’s bedroom is open, in the hope that he’ll catch a breeze in the Clovis summer night. The stairs creak as the house settles and his dad is snoring down the hall. Chris’s laptop is whirring and giving off heat that’s making him swelter in his tank top and shorts. He’s excited, though, and that makes it worth it.

He pulls up the chat site and types in his password, spinning side to side in his chair while he waits for it to load.

Of course, SanFran is already there.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:02]:** Cat! Long time, no see! Whatcha been doin’? ;)

Chris rolls his eyes fondly. They had agreed, very early on, that while they were finding their feet in their relationship, they would refrain from chatting online. Text messages and phone calls, and then Skype once they were back in California have more than filled the void. But they’re feeling nostalgic. Maybe it’s the being back in the rooms where they first “met”, maybe they’re finally secure enough in themselves and each other. Whatever it is, this “date” feels like it’s been a long time coming.

 **CatInAPastLife [23:03]:** You most recently.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:03]:** Ohhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 You did not! You took us to that place. For shame.

 **CatInAPastLife [23:04]:** It’s not my fault. I’ve only been back from San Francisco for two days and I already miss you like I would a limb.

 **CatInAPastLife [23:04]:** …Or my computer. I feel like I would miss my computer more than I would miss a limb, to be honest.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:05]:** You’re so weird. I love you.

Chris blushes. Darren says the words a lot, like he has so much love brimming up inside him that he has to let it out to stop himself drowning in it. Chris is more reserved, but he knows that Darren knows.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:06]:** Anyway, we’ll be back in Michigan in a few weeks. I’m going to be really embarrassing and greet you at the airport with a serenade and dewy roses.

 **CatInAPastLife [23:06]:** Dewy roses? In August?

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:07]:** OK, fine. A lukewarm Diet Coke then. You’d probably appreciate that more anyway.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:08]:** So listen. I know you’ve said you’re not interested. But Avatar. It’s a thing you have to watch, OK? Like, it’s so awesome. You’ll love it, I know you will. I promise. So you’ll watch it with me, right? Please? Pretty please? I’ll bring out the eyes, Colfer, you know I will.

Chris smiles and dims his screen so that his eyes aren’t smarting in the otherwise dark room. He’s already decided that he’s going to watch this show, because Darren loves it and he loves Darren. Darren just doesn’t know it yet, and he’s enjoying the lengths Darren will go to, to convince him.

 **CatInAPastLife [23:09]:** Bring it, Criss. Do your worst. I dare you.

 **Lil’SanFranDude [23:09]:** You’ll regret that. It is so on.

Yes, Chris thinks, and smiles. It is.


End file.
